(They press a lump of newspaper into OLIVER'S mouth, and bear down onGERALD.)JOB ARTHUR. Quiet—quiet—quiet a minute, everybody. We give him a minute—we give him a minute to answer.VOICES. Give him a minute—a holy minute—say your prayers, Barlow—you've got a minute—tick-tick, says the clock—time him!JOB ARTHUR. Keep quiet.WILLIE. Of all the damned, cowardly—-VOICES. Sh-h-h!—Squeeze him—throttle him! Silence is golden, Houghton.—Close the shutters, Willie's dead.—Dry up, wet whiskers!JOB ARTHUR. You've fifteen seconds.VOICES. There's a long, long trail a-winding—-JOB ARTHUR. The minute's up.—We ask you again, Gerald Barlow, why you refused a just and fair demand, when you know it was against the wishes of three thousand men all as good as yourself.VOICES. And a sight better—I don't think—we're not all vermin—we're not all crawlers, living off the sweat of other folks—we're not all parish vermin—parish vermin.JOB ARTHUR. And on what grounds do you think you have no occasion to answer the straightforward question we put you here?ANABEL (after a pause). Answer them, Gerald. What's the use of prolonging this?GERALD. I've nothing to answer.VOICES. Nothing to answer—Gerald, darling—Gerald, duckie—oh, lovey-dovey—I've nothing to answer—no, by God—no, by God, he hasna—nowt to answer—ma'e him find summat, then—answer for him—gi'e him's answer—let him ha'e it—go on—mum—mum—lovey-dovey—rub his nose in it—kiss the dirt, ducky—bend him down—rub his nose in—he's saying something—oh, no, he isn't—sorry I spoke—bend him down!JOB ARTHUR. Quiet a bit—quiet everybody—he's got to answer—keep quiet.—Now—— (A silence.) Now then, Barlow, will you answer, or won't you? (Silence.)ANABEL. Answer them, Gerald—never mind.VOICES. Sh-h-h! Sh-h-h! (Silence.)JOB ARTHUR. You won't answer, Barlow?VOICE. Down the beggar!VOICES. Down him—put his nose down—flatten him!(The crowd surges and begins to howl—they sway dangerously—GERALDis spread-eagled on the floor, face down.)JOB ARTHUR. Back—back—back a minute—back—back! (They recoil.)WILLIE. I HOPE there's a God in heaven.VOICES. Put him down—flatten him!(WILLIE is flattened on the ground.)JOB ARTHUR. Now, then—now then—if you won't answer, Barlow, I can't stand here for you any more.—Take your feet off him, boys, and turn him over—let us look at him. Let us see if he CAN speak. (They turn him over, with another scuffle.) Now then, Barlow—you can see the sky above you. Now do you think you're going to play with three thousand men, with their lives and with their souls?—now do you think you're going to answer them with your foot?—do you—do you?(The crowd has begun to sway and heave dangerously, with a low,muffled roar, above which is heard JOB ARTHUR'S voice. As heceases, the roar breaks into a yell—the crowd heaves.)VOICES. Down him—crack the vermin—on top of him—put your foot on the vermin!ANABEL (with a loud, piercing cry, suddenly starting up). Ah, no! Ah, no! Ah-h-h-h no-o-o-o! Ah-h-h-h no-o-o-o! Ah-h-h-h no-o-o-o! No-o-o-o! No-o-o-o! No-o! No-o-o!—Ah-h-h-h!—it's enough, it's enough, it's enough—he's a man as you are. He's a man as you are. He's a man as you are. (Weeps—a breath of silence.)OLIVER. Let us stop now—let us stop now. Let me stand up. (Silence.) I want to stand up. (A muffled noise.)VOICE. Let him get up. (OLIVER rises.)OLIVER. Be quiet. Be quiet.—Now—choose! Choose! Choose! Choose what you will do! Only choose! Choose!—it will be irrevocable. (A moment's pause.) Thank God we haven't gone too far.—Gerald, get up. (Men still hold him down.)JOB ARTHUR. Isn't he to answer us? Isn't he going to answer us?OLIVER. Yes, he shall answer you. He shall answer you. But let him stand up. No more of this. Let him stand up. He must stand up. (Men still hold GERALD down.) OLIVER takes hold of their hands and removes them.) Let go—let go now. Yes, let go—yes—I ask you to let go. (Slowly, sullenly, the men let go. GERALD is free, but he does not move.) There—get up, Gerald! Get up! You aren't hurt, are you? You must get up—it's no use. We're doing our best—you must do yours. When things are like this, we have to put up with what we get. (GERALD rises slowly and faces the mob. They roar dully.) You ask why the clerks didn't get this increase? Wait! Wait! Do you still wish for any answer, Mr. Freer?JOB ARTHUR. Yes, that's what we've been waiting for.OLIVER. Then answer, Gerald.GERALD. They've trodden on my face.OLIVER. No matter. Job Arthur will easily answer that you've trodden on their souls. Don't start an altercation. (The crowd is beginning to roar.)GERALD. You want to know why the clerks didn't get their rise?—Because you interfered and attempted to bully about it, do you see. That's why.VOICES. You want bullying.—You'll get bullying, you will.OLIVER. Can't you see it's no good, either side? It's no mortal use. We might as well all die to-morrow, or to-day, or this minute, as go on bullying one another, one side bullying the other side, and the other side bullying back. We'd BETTER all die.WILLIE. And a great deal better. I'm damned if I'll take sides with anybody against anything, after this. If I'm to die, I'll die by myself. As for living, it seems impossible.JOB ARTHUR. Have the men nothing to be said for their side?OLIVER. They have a great deal—but not EVERYTHING, you see.JOB ARTHUR. Haven't they been wronged? And AREN'T they wronged?OLIVER. They have—and they are. But haven't they been wrong themselves, too?—and aren't they wrong now?JOB ARTHUR. How?OLIVER. What about this affair? Do you call it right?JOB ARTHUR. Haven't we been driven to it?OLIVER. Partly. And haven't you driven the masters to it, as well?JOB ARTHUR. I don't see that.OLIVER. Can't you see that it takes two to make a quarrel? And as long as each party hangs on to its own end of the stick and struggles to get full hold of the stick, the quarrel will continue. It will continue till you've killed one another. And even then, what better shall you be? What better would you be, really, if you'd killed Gerald Barlow just now? You wouldn't, you know. We're all human beings, after all. And why can't we try really to leave off struggling against one another, and set up a new state of things?JOB ARTHUR. That's all very well, you see, while you've got the goods.OLIVER. I've got very little, I assure you.JOB ARTHUR. Well, if you haven't, those you mix with have. They've got the money, and the power, and they intend to keep it.OLIVER. As for power, somebody must have it, you know. It only rests with you to put it into the hands of the best men, the men you REALLY believe in.—And as for money, it's life, it's living that matters, not simply having money.JOB ARTHUR. You can't live without money.OLIVER. I know that. And therefore why can't we have the decency to agree simply about money—just agree to dispose of it so that all men could live their own lives.JOB ARTHUR. That's what we want to do. But the others, such as Gerald Barlow, they keep the money—AND the power.OLIVER. You see, if you wanted to arrange things so that money flowed more naturally, so that it flowed naturally to every man, according to his needs, I think we could all soon agree. But you don't. What you want is to take it away from one set and give it to another—or keep it yourselves.JOB ARTHUR. We want every man to have his proper share.OLIVER. I'm sureIdo. I want every man to be able to live and be free. But we shall never manage it by fighting over the money. If you want what is natural and good, I'm sure the owners would soon agree with you.JOB ARTHUR. What? Gerald Barlow agree with us?OLIVER. Why not? I believe so.JOB ARTHUR. You ask him.OLIVER. Do you think, Gerald, that if the men really wanted a whole, better way, you would agree with them?GERALD. I want a better way myself—but not their way.JOB ARTHUR. There, you see!VOICES. Ah-h! look you!—That's him—that's him all over.OLIVER. You want a better way,—but not his way: he wants a better way—but not your way. Why can't you both drop your buts, and simply say you want a better way, and believe yourselves and one another when you say it? Why can't you?GERALD. Look here! I'm quite as tired of my way of life as you are of yours. If you make me believe you want something better, then I assure you I do: I want what you want. But Job Arthur Freer's not the man to lead you to anything better. You can tell what people want by the leaders they choose, do you see? You choose leaders whom I respect, and I'll respect you, do you see? As it is, I don't. And now I'm going.VOICES. Who says?—Oh ay!—Who says goin'?GERALD. Yes, I'm going. About this affair here we'll cry quits; no more said about it. About a new way of life, a better way all round—I tell you I want it and need it as much as ever you do. I don't care about money really. But I'm never going to be bullied.VOICE. Who doesn't care about money?GERALD. I don't. I think we ought to be able to alter the whole system—but not by bullying, not because one lot wants what the other has got.VOICE. No, because you've got everything.GERALD. Where's my coat? Now then, step out of the way. (They move towards the car.)(Curtain.)
(They press a lump of newspaper into OLIVER'S mouth, and bear down onGERALD.)
JOB ARTHUR. Quiet—quiet—quiet a minute, everybody. We give him a minute—we give him a minute to answer.
VOICES. Give him a minute—a holy minute—say your prayers, Barlow—you've got a minute—tick-tick, says the clock—time him!
JOB ARTHUR. Keep quiet.
WILLIE. Of all the damned, cowardly—-
VOICES. Sh-h-h!—Squeeze him—throttle him! Silence is golden, Houghton.—Close the shutters, Willie's dead.—Dry up, wet whiskers!
JOB ARTHUR. You've fifteen seconds.
VOICES. There's a long, long trail a-winding—-
JOB ARTHUR. The minute's up.—We ask you again, Gerald Barlow, why you refused a just and fair demand, when you know it was against the wishes of three thousand men all as good as yourself.
VOICES. And a sight better—I don't think—we're not all vermin—we're not all crawlers, living off the sweat of other folks—we're not all parish vermin—parish vermin.
JOB ARTHUR. And on what grounds do you think you have no occasion to answer the straightforward question we put you here?
ANABEL (after a pause). Answer them, Gerald. What's the use of prolonging this?
GERALD. I've nothing to answer.
VOICES. Nothing to answer—Gerald, darling—Gerald, duckie—oh, lovey-dovey—I've nothing to answer—no, by God—no, by God, he hasna—nowt to answer—ma'e him find summat, then—answer for him—gi'e him's answer—let him ha'e it—go on—mum—mum—lovey-dovey—rub his nose in it—kiss the dirt, ducky—bend him down—rub his nose in—he's saying something—oh, no, he isn't—sorry I spoke—bend him down!
JOB ARTHUR. Quiet a bit—quiet everybody—he's got to answer—keep quiet.—Now—— (A silence.) Now then, Barlow, will you answer, or won't you? (Silence.)
ANABEL. Answer them, Gerald—never mind.
VOICES. Sh-h-h! Sh-h-h! (Silence.)
JOB ARTHUR. You won't answer, Barlow?
VOICE. Down the beggar!
VOICES. Down him—put his nose down—flatten him!
(The crowd surges and begins to howl—they sway dangerously—GERALDis spread-eagled on the floor, face down.)
JOB ARTHUR. Back—back—back a minute—back—back! (They recoil.)
WILLIE. I HOPE there's a God in heaven.
VOICES. Put him down—flatten him!
(WILLIE is flattened on the ground.)
JOB ARTHUR. Now, then—now then—if you won't answer, Barlow, I can't stand here for you any more.—Take your feet off him, boys, and turn him over—let us look at him. Let us see if he CAN speak. (They turn him over, with another scuffle.) Now then, Barlow—you can see the sky above you. Now do you think you're going to play with three thousand men, with their lives and with their souls?—now do you think you're going to answer them with your foot?—do you—do you?
(The crowd has begun to sway and heave dangerously, with a low,muffled roar, above which is heard JOB ARTHUR'S voice. As heceases, the roar breaks into a yell—the crowd heaves.)
VOICES. Down him—crack the vermin—on top of him—put your foot on the vermin!
ANABEL (with a loud, piercing cry, suddenly starting up). Ah, no! Ah, no! Ah-h-h-h no-o-o-o! Ah-h-h-h no-o-o-o! Ah-h-h-h no-o-o-o! No-o-o-o! No-o-o-o! No-o! No-o-o!—Ah-h-h-h!—it's enough, it's enough, it's enough—he's a man as you are. He's a man as you are. He's a man as you are. (Weeps—a breath of silence.)
OLIVER. Let us stop now—let us stop now. Let me stand up. (Silence.) I want to stand up. (A muffled noise.)
VOICE. Let him get up. (OLIVER rises.)
OLIVER. Be quiet. Be quiet.—Now—choose! Choose! Choose! Choose what you will do! Only choose! Choose!—it will be irrevocable. (A moment's pause.) Thank God we haven't gone too far.—Gerald, get up. (Men still hold him down.)
JOB ARTHUR. Isn't he to answer us? Isn't he going to answer us?
OLIVER. Yes, he shall answer you. He shall answer you. But let him stand up. No more of this. Let him stand up. He must stand up. (Men still hold GERALD down.) OLIVER takes hold of their hands and removes them.) Let go—let go now. Yes, let go—yes—I ask you to let go. (Slowly, sullenly, the men let go. GERALD is free, but he does not move.) There—get up, Gerald! Get up! You aren't hurt, are you? You must get up—it's no use. We're doing our best—you must do yours. When things are like this, we have to put up with what we get. (GERALD rises slowly and faces the mob. They roar dully.) You ask why the clerks didn't get this increase? Wait! Wait! Do you still wish for any answer, Mr. Freer?
JOB ARTHUR. Yes, that's what we've been waiting for.
OLIVER. Then answer, Gerald.
GERALD. They've trodden on my face.
OLIVER. No matter. Job Arthur will easily answer that you've trodden on their souls. Don't start an altercation. (The crowd is beginning to roar.)
GERALD. You want to know why the clerks didn't get their rise?—Because you interfered and attempted to bully about it, do you see. That's why.
VOICES. You want bullying.—You'll get bullying, you will.
OLIVER. Can't you see it's no good, either side? It's no mortal use. We might as well all die to-morrow, or to-day, or this minute, as go on bullying one another, one side bullying the other side, and the other side bullying back. We'd BETTER all die.
WILLIE. And a great deal better. I'm damned if I'll take sides with anybody against anything, after this. If I'm to die, I'll die by myself. As for living, it seems impossible.
JOB ARTHUR. Have the men nothing to be said for their side?
OLIVER. They have a great deal—but not EVERYTHING, you see.
JOB ARTHUR. Haven't they been wronged? And AREN'T they wronged?
OLIVER. They have—and they are. But haven't they been wrong themselves, too?—and aren't they wrong now?
JOB ARTHUR. How?
OLIVER. What about this affair? Do you call it right?
JOB ARTHUR. Haven't we been driven to it?
OLIVER. Partly. And haven't you driven the masters to it, as well?
JOB ARTHUR. I don't see that.
OLIVER. Can't you see that it takes two to make a quarrel? And as long as each party hangs on to its own end of the stick and struggles to get full hold of the stick, the quarrel will continue. It will continue till you've killed one another. And even then, what better shall you be? What better would you be, really, if you'd killed Gerald Barlow just now? You wouldn't, you know. We're all human beings, after all. And why can't we try really to leave off struggling against one another, and set up a new state of things?
JOB ARTHUR. That's all very well, you see, while you've got the goods.
OLIVER. I've got very little, I assure you.
JOB ARTHUR. Well, if you haven't, those you mix with have. They've got the money, and the power, and they intend to keep it.
OLIVER. As for power, somebody must have it, you know. It only rests with you to put it into the hands of the best men, the men you REALLY believe in.—And as for money, it's life, it's living that matters, not simply having money.
JOB ARTHUR. You can't live without money.
OLIVER. I know that. And therefore why can't we have the decency to agree simply about money—just agree to dispose of it so that all men could live their own lives.
JOB ARTHUR. That's what we want to do. But the others, such as Gerald Barlow, they keep the money—AND the power.
OLIVER. You see, if you wanted to arrange things so that money flowed more naturally, so that it flowed naturally to every man, according to his needs, I think we could all soon agree. But you don't. What you want is to take it away from one set and give it to another—or keep it yourselves.
JOB ARTHUR. We want every man to have his proper share.
OLIVER. I'm sureIdo. I want every man to be able to live and be free. But we shall never manage it by fighting over the money. If you want what is natural and good, I'm sure the owners would soon agree with you.
JOB ARTHUR. What? Gerald Barlow agree with us?
OLIVER. Why not? I believe so.
JOB ARTHUR. You ask him.
OLIVER. Do you think, Gerald, that if the men really wanted a whole, better way, you would agree with them?
GERALD. I want a better way myself—but not their way.
JOB ARTHUR. There, you see!
VOICES. Ah-h! look you!—That's him—that's him all over.
OLIVER. You want a better way,—but not his way: he wants a better way—but not your way. Why can't you both drop your buts, and simply say you want a better way, and believe yourselves and one another when you say it? Why can't you?
GERALD. Look here! I'm quite as tired of my way of life as you are of yours. If you make me believe you want something better, then I assure you I do: I want what you want. But Job Arthur Freer's not the man to lead you to anything better. You can tell what people want by the leaders they choose, do you see? You choose leaders whom I respect, and I'll respect you, do you see? As it is, I don't. And now I'm going.
VOICES. Who says?—Oh ay!—Who says goin'?
GERALD. Yes, I'm going. About this affair here we'll cry quits; no more said about it. About a new way of life, a better way all round—I tell you I want it and need it as much as ever you do. I don't care about money really. But I'm never going to be bullied.
VOICE. Who doesn't care about money?
GERALD. I don't. I think we ought to be able to alter the whole system—but not by bullying, not because one lot wants what the other has got.
VOICE. No, because you've got everything.
GERALD. Where's my coat? Now then, step out of the way. (They move towards the car.)
(Curtain.)